Those of you who have gotten married have experienced this very thing. Being a bride-to-be steals your brain. You start to think about intelligent things like your work or ethics or who to vote for, but you end up googling hairstyles to pin on pinterest.
I (who is now referred to as the “bride”) went to my last cake-tasting last week with my friend (who now goes by the term “bridesmaid”). We drove to a ritzy area of the city and found the office number indicated on the directions. Making our way upstairs, we saw the building was under construction. As we entered the office, we also realized the business owner with whom we were meeting was in the middle of a meeting with another pair of clients. Strikes one and two before we even crossed the threshold. But it got better.
You would think that since he had scheduled our meeting, he would hurry to wrap it up with the prior clients. Not so. They continued to chat for the next 15-20 minutes, while we were left to look at a wasteland of cakes in dated, 80’s albums. We should have left while we could. However, the promise of free cake dangled in front of our nose like a carrot for a mule.
Finally, still talking to the other couple, the owner Jerry walked into the back, presumably to retrieve our cake samples. He brought them back out, forks in hand. However, he was too deep into an anecdote about Sex and the City – a show he had never seen but the other bride used to describe the theme of her wedding – to offer us our forks. He simply set the cake down and proceeded to hold our forks… in his lap. Very south in his lap. Waving them carelessly about as he talked of Sex and the City. I’m not sure why that didn’t send us running for the exit. But it got better.
Eventually he got to us and told us about the cakes we were tasting. Chocolate, bavarian, lemon… they all blurred together at this point. Handing us our forks and walking away dismissively, we were at least left to taste in peace.
The cake was terrible. Dry, spongy, soggy, artificial: whatever you dislike in a cake, there was a sample there for you. My friend and I kept glancing at each other, then glancing down, trying our best not to burst into laughter. Or tears. I kept thinking, maybe the cake is delicious, that’s how he stays in business. Not so. The cake was worse than the incessant chatter, the southern fork-waving, and the negligent customer regard combined.
I can’t believe that it had come to this. Being the bride-to-be had actually vacuumed my brain straight out of my head and set it on my taste buds, only to be gravely disappointed.
It took us until that point, but when we finally made our motion to leave, our legs couldn’t carry us fast enough. I think my friend was hyperventilating. “Get out,” she said, “just leave and don’t look back.”
Oh cake from Hades, you will not be at our wedding. No matter what sugar-spun demons you attempted to plant in my head.